Page 25 of Blood Coven

“Azalea, do not be cruel,” Matthias countered.

“The world is cruel, Matthias; it is time you learned that.”

Matthias glared at his mother. “I learned firsthand from you.”

Ana shifted from foot to foot, her discomfort nearly palpable. “You may have him,” she said. “If you think it will protect this town and your family, I have no reason to deny you this.”

Azalea grinned. “Very well. Take a seat. Juniper and I will brew up something to make you ill.”

“Appear ill,” Matthias corrected.

“Appearing ill and being ill is no different.” Azalea sneered. “The only difference is what I create will not inevitably kill her.”

Ana sat as she was told. She was putting herself in the hands of Azalea and Juniper, and Matthias was trusting that they would give her something to appear ill. Trusting that it wouldn’t kill her. So much was at stake, dangling on a delicate thread—one wrong move and it would snap.

Matthias knew how quickly Azalea would kill Ana if she thought there was anything between them. Even though he wasn’t even sure if there was anything between them at all. A connection, yes, but does she feel it too? She gave nothing away. He debated the idea that he was forcing her into a role she never asked for; he had more he could offer her, but it was not the time to bring it up. They needed to build a stronger bond first.

Matthias realized he was staring at Ana and quickly glanced away. He turned his attention to Azalea and Juniper, who were muttering over the cluttered table. The gentle clinking of clay mortar and pestles rang through the house, echoed by the crackle of the fire and the murmurs of the two witches as they worked at their altar. To keep himself busy, Matthias went to the fire and pushed back the charred logs to place a fresh one on. Knowing that Azalea and Juniper were distracted, he offered a warm glance to Ana to calm her nerves.

A hibernating spider scurried out from the warmth of the log—a shelter for bugs and rodents all throughout the year—and frantically looked for an escape. It scuttled from one end of the log to the other, but the fire wrapped hot fingers along the edges, trapping it and closing in on it second by second. Matthias reached in to save it—he had seen enough death in his life—but it succumbed to the flame before he could get the chance.

“Excuse me, brother.” Juniper spoke softly as she walked over to him, too quietly for him to notice right away.

He stepped aside, his eyes still locked in on the spot where the spider had once been. Juniper interrupted his line of sight, her simple black skirt pooling around her like a tent. With deft hands, she poured the contents of a clay bowl into the iron one hanging from the fireplace.

While it brewed at a rolling boil, Azalea passed Juniper a wooden board with a small blade and other tools upon it. Matthias watched his mother walk back to the table and reach underneath. She grunted as she hoisted out a jar full of wiggling black creatures. She plucked one out and brought it over to Juniper, who withdrew from her pocket a rat. Its tail curled around her wrist.

Matthias shuddered.

Juniper smiled playfully. “Shall I fetch you a bucket?”

Matthias ignored the sick feeling in his stomach, saying nothing. He checked on Ana, who remained seated, watching closely. How can all three women not be squeamish of those foul creatures? he wondered.

Juniper set the rat down on the wooden board, stroking its fur. Then she took the leech from Azalea and placed it on the rat. As it latched on, the rodent protested with shrieks that faded out into heavy panting as Juniper whispered words so soft and quiet Matthias couldn’t understand them. After a few moments, she plucked the leech from the rat, which scurried up the front of her dress and nestled in her hair.

As though the Craft took over Juniper’s body, she moved with a grace unnatural to the horrific actions she was performing. With two sharp pins, she poked them through either side of the leech, holding it there. Using the blade, she slit along its underside. Black and red oozed out of it. Juniper cut out two sections, carefully removing them and placing them in the iron pot. The rat climbed back down from her shoulder to smell the dissected leech.

Matthias had to look away as it ravenously consumed the pieces. Instead, he watched Juniper ladle the brew into a funnel and strain the solids into a phial. Murky in color, it reminded Matthias of the night sky without stars, an endless sort of darkness. Like death. It smelled rancid like carrion left out in the sun too long. Juniper capped the phial with a cork stopper and gave it a shake.

Azalea swooped in and snatched it from Juniper’s hands; she released it as though they had rehearsed, their movements flawlessly choreographed. As Azalea closed in on Ana, Matthias stiffened. The woman grabbed Ana’s hands and lifted them, studying the marks around her wrists. Then her eyes danced along to her eye and cheek, which was swollen and red, with purplish green bruising around the edges.

Matthias refused to look away in fear they would see through him. Juniper, whose eyes studied him thoroughly, would see his guilt at being the one who created the bruises if he looked away. Ana must have added the ones on her cheek and eye after I left, he thought, knowing I couldn’t take it that far.

“These are fresh. Is your husband home?” Azalea asked, her grip tightening on Ana’s chin.

It was as if Ana was the witch on trial. One wrong movement and she would be hanged or tied to the pyre to be burned alive. Azalea’s methods of killing were subtler, more insidious, certainly more dangerous. Matthias eyed the phial nervously.

Ana shook her head. “He left on his final hunt of the season.”

“When will he return? It must be before the full moon. That is scarcely a fortnight away.”

“He has never been gone longer than a week,” Ana told her. “He will be home in three days, at the latest.”

Azalea reached out to hand the phial to Ana but snatched it back. She clutched it to her breast, her knuckles growing white as she held onto it. A cruel look crossed her face.

“Drink it now,” Azalea demanded. “Then I will know you’re not using this to turn me in, using my son to get the proof you need for this town to finally have me burned.”

“Azalea!” Matthias shouted, stepping in between her and Ana.

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